


I, Columbus

by Kazca



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:31:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazca/pseuds/Kazca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang finally goes to Columbus, Ohio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I, Columbus

It had kind of been inevitable.

When you didn't have anywhere safe to go, and the least dangerous thing to do was siphon off gasoline and keep the convoy moving, you got out a cut of hose, shoved it down a gas tank, and  _sucked_. You ignored all the suggestive remarks, about how practice made perfect and a *certain* hose was always available for hands-on sessions, and you sucked. And when you'd siphoned off enough gas you drove, marking places off on a map until South America had been thoroughly experienced, and until Tallahassee had gotten his kicks beheading mounties in Canada. You marked places off until the world started to seem a lot smaller than it was when everything was too expensive to be accessible.

And when there was nowhere else in the Western-fucking-hemisphere to go, you went to Columbus, Ohio.

Columbus had made it his idea. They were running out of places to go, their map made up more of little X's and check marks than anything else, and Tallahassee had started talking about finding a boat or,  _godpleaseno_ , a  _plane_  to take them abroad. Europe, over-crowded as it had been, would be  _full_  of zombies, and that was mighty appealing to the crazy redneck. So, Columbus had asked if they could go to Columbus, in the name of closure, before Tallahassee got them all killed in some sort of horrible, sea-related way.

Tallahassee had snorted and muttered "pussy" under his breath, but when they hit the open highway later that day, they were heading towards Ohio. Columbus thought Wichita still felt guilty for her slip up when they first met.  _They're playing the quiet game in Columbus, Ohio_. The snide remark still smarted a bit, but she hadn't known he was Columbus, so he couldn't really pout at her for it. He didn't mean to sulk at anyone, or in general, but he realized that the car had become extremely quiet when he felt a large hand slide over his thigh reassuringly. Wichita was driving as fast as was safe(which was terrifyingly fast), and Little Rock was sleeping in the passenger seat with her head pressed against the window. The conversation, which had been awkward and forced, had slunk off to die somewhere in the darkness beyond their taillights. His hand crept over Tallahassee's, giving it an unsure, but reassuring pat.

Their relationship was an unlikely one, kick started by a night spent alone and bloody in a basement with the undead battering the door and windows all around them.  _I can't believe I'm going to die a virgin!_  Words spoken with a laugh and edged with hysteria. The man had been on him in a second, pushing him down to the dirty floor and touching him everywhere and anywhere possible. They'd only managed to pull their clothes on when Wichita came bursting down the door with Little Rock, guns blazing. The girls hadn't noticed, he didn't think; their messy appearances could easily be blamed on their encounter with the undead. After that there had been other moments for them, quiet and quick in shared bedrooms with the girls sleeping on the other side of too-thin walls. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't tender, but it was a connection to something vital, something  _real_ , in a world of horror and solitude. There were no stolen kisses or tender hand holding outside of those harried moments.

Which was why Columbus was surprised to find Tallahassee watching him when he glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye. He felt heat rise into his cheeks, completely unwanted, and cursed himself as he twisted his face away, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the car window. He'd been too quiet, he supposed, closing his eyes. Usually he was the one who kept up the inane conversation; he'd never liked silence as a kid. He thought it was because his parents were nervous talkers. He felt something twist in his gut, the nervous faces of his parents flashing behind his eyes and making him snap them open. He stared out the window at the darkness passing them by, swallowing thickly. The hand on his thigh gave a squeeze, and his head snapped around in surprise; he'd forgotten the hand was there. Tallahassee was staring at him, one eyebrow raised, the other lowered.

"You sure you don't wanna go to Holland?" he asked, lips quirking up in a smile that Columbus couldn't quite read in the dark. "Lots'a weed."

Columbus let out a surprised snort of laughter, shaking his head. He could hear Wichita snickering in the driver's seat.

"You're hard enough to keep up with sober," Columbus said, "I don't even want to  _think_  about the crazy shit you'd get up to high."

The indecipherable smile turned into a grin, and Columbus couldn't help grinning back.

\---

By the time they hit the city limits the grins had stopped, and instead of feeling warmly confused by the thumb that had been rubbing gentle circles on his thigh for two hours, he felt nauseous dread at what would be waiting for him when they got to his neighborhood. Unable to handle the cold knot that had formed in his stomach, he'd asked for Wichita to pull over so he could drive. He could feel the confusion radiating off of her at the request("Columbus  _hates_  driving," she'd whispered to Tallahassee when she thought he couldn't hear), but she complied nonetheless.

The streets were familiar, the turns were the same as they had always been, and he was sure that the shortcuts he'd learned as a teenager would still get him where he wanted to go, but the scenery was foreign. Buildings had burned to the ground(most of the city had, in fact), and in some places the blackened remains still smoked and glowed. Cars were upturned in the streets, creating a maze of twisted metal and, in some cases, rotting corpses. This was the town he'd grown up in, but as he maneuvered the SUV through the streets he struggled to remember why it had ever felt warm and welcoming. Every shadow seemed to be filled with monsters.

Monsters that had nothing to do with the zombies who chased after their car.

Brown Rd ran between the sprawling expanses of Greenlawn Cemetery, and a stretch of suburb. Columbus had grown up in that suburb, the introverted child of two introverted parents; the kid who got chased around the neighborhood by all the other kids and left hanging by his underwear from chain-link fences. Columbus made a right turn onto Laurel Ave, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turned white. He'd been speeding by a few miles an hour, but as he passed by familiar houses the car slowed. He remembered the faces of each houses' inhabitants. Some glared at him from his memories, others smiled and offered him sweets to help cheer him up after encountering the neighborhood bullies.

He bit down on his lip as the car slowed to a stop, staring past Little Rock to the house that sat, perfectly untouched, at the end of a gravel driveway. The seconds turned into minutes, and he just stared at the house, his mouth feeling incredibly dry and his stomach churning. He turned off the car slowly, his fingers shaking when he unbuckled his seat belt. He slid out of the car silently, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Wichita and Tallahassee. Both were awake, watching his every move; Tallahassee handed him a baseball bat over the seat, and their fingers brushed. Columbus couldn't explain why the accidental brush of fingers left him feeling bolder; why it loosened the knot in his stomach.

His feet carried him up the driveway without conscious thought, the gravel crunching loudly with every step. He'd scraped his knees on that gravel when he was seven. He'd been chasing after a cat and tripped on his untied laces. His father had told him that chasing the cat was stupid. You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

 _"Children are children, and children do childish things,"_  his mother had said as means of explanation, and the words, though not intended as hurtful, had cut through him like a knife.

Columbus swallowed hard, stepping up onto the porch and reaching out for the door. His fingers curled around the handle, and the door pushed open easily; not locked. The house was quiet and dark, but he could have navigated the halls blindfolded. He reached out to feel along the wall, pausing when his fingers brushed over a familiar picture frame. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was the family portrait his parents had commissioned when he graduated from high school. He'd felt nauseous when they were posing in front of the camera; he hated taking pictures.

He heard a creak behind him, his mind immediately supplying that it was the creak that sounded when someone stepped off of the stairs. He spun around, bat ready, and reeled backwards when something cracked into his skull. Light exploded behind his eyes, pain reverberating down to his fingertips, and he crashed backwards into the table that had always held vases and car keys, letting out a loud shout of surprise before he blacked out.

  
\---

Coming to was like walking through a thick fog. Everything was confusing and fuzzy, shapes that crept in and out of the surrounding darkness. Columbus was first aware of a buzz of voices, the hum of angry words being spat back and forth between familiar voices. His eyes cracked open, immediately blinking closed when the blaring led light of their lantern made his head throb. The second thing that Columbus became aware of was the fact that Tallahassee was on his knees behind him, holding him against his chest with one arm, his other waving a gun wildly.

"...goddamn, fucking kill you," the redneck was threatening loudly.

"That is my  _son_ ," a feminine voice was shrieking.

"Is Columbus okay?" another, smaller feminine voice was asking.

Columbus forced his eyes open and ground out, "I'm fine, Little Rock."

The words slurred together messily, coming out sounding more like,"'m'ine, lil'rock".

"Well, thank God for that," he heard Tallahassee snarl. "If he'd been dead, I would'a killed  _you_  dead."

The faces that had swum into view when Columbus opened his eyes made him feel nauseous in their familiarity. His mother, clutching a shotgun to her chest and alternating between glaring at Tallahassee and shooting worried looks towards her son, and his father, who was holding a baseball bat loosely in one hand, looking a bit green. He cleared his throat, swallowing hard and reaching him blindly to pat at Tallahassee's chest. It wasn't the most reassuring action, but it was the best he could do given his position in front of the man. Despite the weakness of the action, the sentiment was clearly received, and he felt a bit of the tension leave the body behind him. Turning his attention to his parents he gave a weak, unconvincing smile.

"Mom," he said, "Dad. Good to see you."

His dad took a deep, fortifying breath, "Son. Wish you would have called."

"Andrew!" his mother scolded her husband, slapping his arm before dropping down in front of Columbus and pulling him into a hug. He felt Tallahassee's arm drop away from him, and wanted to sink back against the man's chest, out of his mother's arms. As it was, his arms wrapped around her shoulders in a weak hug, and he was pulled to his feet.

"I would have called," he said, "But it's hard to find a working payphone with this apocalypse on."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Columbus wobbling a bit on his feet, and after a few long seconds his mother suggested they have something to eat. Her son, she said, looked far too skinny. So they were ushered into the kitchen, which was quickly lit up by several large candles set up on the table and counter tops. Columbus watched as his mother started picking things out of the cabinet. His father sat silently between Wichita and Little Rock, his gaze stuck on Tallahassee, who took up a seat close to Columbus. He seemed wary of the redneck, as though at any moment he would stand up and kill them all. His mother kept up a constant stream of questions, fluttering around the kitchen like a nervous butterfly.

Columbus tried to answer them all, but some were harder than others. "You're Columbus now?"

His lips twisted a bit in a frown, "No names. To keep you from getting attached."

Lots of good it had done. He was just as attached to Tallahassee as he would have been if he called himself Tom or John, or any number of names that didn't seem to fit him. His mother sighed, nodding, and poured the contents of a can into four bowls, which she then placed in front of the strangers who'd been threatening her moments before. Columbus' stomach growled when the sweet scent of canned pears assaulted him. The four travelers tucked into the fruit with gusto, Little Rock making happy food noises as she swallowed slices down whole.

"Aren't you a little old to be hanging around with children?" his dad asked after they'd all lapsed into silence.

Columbus felt his entire body flush red with embarrassment, and choked loudly on a slice of pear. Beside him, Tallahassee had gone perfectly still, and was looking at his father through narrowed eyes. A treacherous part of his brain estimated that Tallahassee would hit his father with at  _least_  75%. An even more treacherous part of his mind thought his father would deserve it. To his surprise, Tallahassee's shoulders relaxed after a few seconds, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked comfortable.

"You sure you should be judgin' me, Padre Ohio?" he asked, one eyebrow daring to lift in dubious amusement. "I'm not the one who took a bat to your boy's head."

Columbus' father flushed deep red, a mixture of embarrassment and anger making him look like he was about to start choking on his own tongue. Columbus felt like he was going to drown in the tension, and wanted to bury his face in his hands to hide from the mortification of it all.

"My husband and I haven't survived so long without being cautious," his mother interjected, walking around behind his father to put a calming hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure that J- _Columbus_  understands that. I'm sure you all do."

Tallahassee looked like he was going to snarl, so Columbus kicked him under the table, "Tallahassee has a shoot-first-ask-questions-later policy, too. And, anyway, I'm fine, so we shouldn't dwell on it."

"And if you weren't fine?" Tallahassee snapped, shooting Columbus a glare that didn't quite conceal the very real fear the other man had felt.

"Then we'd have guilt tripped them out of every supply they have," Wichita said, shooting Columbus an understanding smile.

"Damn straight!" Little Rock enthused, then added in a stage whisper, "Maybe we can still guilt trip them into letting us sleep here for a few hours."

Columbus' mother blinked, then nodded, "Of course. You all must be exhausted, it's nearly sunrise. You girls can share the guest bedroom, and you can have the couch in the living room, Mr Tallahassee."

Tallahassee made a face, and Columbus turned to his mother with a deeply uncomfortable smile, "Tallahassee can share my room with me. He has back problems."

His dad looked horrified, but his mother just gave him a long, probing stare before nodding slowly. "Alright, dear. Whatever you say. You show the girls to the guest room, and I'll go hunt down some clean bedding."

Columbus nodded, and sprang to his feet, giving a slight whimper when the sudden shift made his head swim and the world sway around him. He must have wobbled, because Tallahassee put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, spit-," he cut himself off with a slight cough, "Kid?"

Columbus gave a wry chuckle, "Peachy."

\---

When all was said and done, they didn't actually slip into bed until a little after sunrise, when the world was turning a hazy gray color. Columbus was exhausted, and his head was pounding, and his old bed was looking like the most beautiful thing in the world. Wichita and Little Rock were settled into the guest bedroom, each armed to gills with guns out of the SUV, and looking pretty damn comfortable tucked under the down comforter his mom had dug out of storage. Columbus slid under the covers with a sigh, his head hitting the pillow and his eyes immediately falling closed. He felt the bed dip behind him, and a second later an arm wrapped around his waist, a body pressing against his closely.

"You need to be more careful when you go running into buildings," Tallahassee's gruff voice whispered in his ear.

Columbus twisted in his hold so that they were pressed together, chest-to-chest, and gave a quiet laugh, "Were you worried?"

He quickly found himself being pressed back into the mattress, Tallahassee's weight bearing down on him, lips smashed against his in a hard, messy kiss. A leg slipped between his, and he didn't hesitate to wrap his leg around Tallahassee's, tangling them together as the bigger man pulled back.

"You  _were_ ," he said, grinning smugly.

Tallahassee snorted, "Well, what do you expect? You're like a fuckin' puppy, with your fuckin' eyes, and your goddamn curly hair."

Columbus' brows came together in confused amusement, "Curly hair? You like my hair?"

"Shut up, spitfuck," Tallahassee growled, crushing their lips together once more, one hand running through Columbus' hair, the other supporting his weight on the mattress.

Columbus grinned into the kiss, fighting laughter. It was too much for him to process at once. He'd been hit in the head with a fucking bat, by his  _alive_  father, his head still hurt like a bitch, and Tallahassee was getting dangerously close to fucking him in his childhood bed. And he didn't intend on stopping the man, either. He writhed and fidgeted beneath him, the closeness of the man, his musky scent, immediately making him flush with warm arousel. It was a warm rush of blood through his body that made his toes curl, and spurred his hands into action, urging them to touch Tallahassee anywhere he could reach.

Tallahassee broke away from his lips and began biting along his jaw, a trail leading down towards his ear, which he gave a gentle nibble. Columbus whimpered, half hard already, and on the verge of begging for more.

"We shouldn't be doing this," his treacherous mouth insisted, his cock immediately protesting the words, and his hips twisting to get more friction on that most needy organ.

"'fraid mom and dad will hear?" Tallahassee asked mockingly, a growl of words as his stubble scraped along the sensitive skin of Columbus' neck.

"Yes!" Columbus moaned, not sure if he was answering the question or encouraging Tallahassee's rough treatment of his neck.

Tallahassee took it as the latter, and bit and sucked hard at the pale flesh, his hand leaving Columbus' hair and instead heading south, to tug at the boy's boxers, urging them off his skinny hips. Columbus eagerly assisted in that endeavor, all thoughts of propriety fleeing his head the second Tallahassee's hand closed around his dick. It was a quickie, but it was far gentler than their previous encounters, and after Columbus had whimpered his completion, stifling his cries by biting down on his arm, they lay a sweaty tangle of sated limbs, Tallahassee breathing softly into his neck. The blankets were a mess around them, half kicked onto the floor, and the sun was shining brightly behind the curtains over the window.

And Tallahassee pulled him closer and showed no intention of letting go.

Columbus stared at the ceiling in silence, listening to Tallahassee breathe, and  _feeling_  Tallahassee breathe. In the hallway he heard his mother tiptoe by, then heard the door to her and his dad's bedroom click closed. The house was dead silent, and Columbus was struck with something akin to vertigo, thrown off balance without moving by the thought that he'd woken up at that time hundreds of mornings before, in that same bed, with those same curtains. He'd seen the same shadows play across the ceiling, but never had it been silent.

There had always been the sound of the neighbor mowing his lawn, and the loud songs of the birds who nested in the tree outside his window.

And the giggly laughter of children riding their bikes in the street.

Swallowing a thick lump that had gathered in his throat, he closed his eyes.

"Can we leave before they wake up?" he asked, his voice soft and pleading.

Tallahassee's weak grip on him tightened, "I thought you'd wanna stay."

Columbus shook his head, dizzy and weak, "And let you wander off to Europe without me?"

Tallahassee chuckled, "Lots'a weed."

"You'd get into way too much trouble," Columbus said, shaking his head again, "Without me there to supervise."

"Wouldn't have been the same without you," Tallahassee admitted.

"You definitely would have missed me," Columbus agreed, earning a snort of laughter from the other man. "And I would have missed you."

He hurried to add on, "And the girls," his cheeks having gone red with embarrassment.

"But mostly me," Tallahassee said smugly.

"Mostly Little Rock," Columbus dead panned.


End file.
